Chaos I Remain, As Ever, Your
by Fyrie
Summary: Taken from an evil challenge: Buffy/HP/LoTR have to meet. My favourite characters must die. The challenger is an evil, evil person. I love her dearly.


TITLE: Chaos, I Remain, As Ever, Your Faithful, Degenerate Daughter   
AUTHOR: Fyre   
RATING: R (just in case...)   
DISCLAIMER: Pity the characters. If I owned them...well, I would be just as cruel, but no. Not mine. All belong to Joss, JKR and JRR. Are we seeing a pattern in spiffy writers names? Now, why couldn't MY name between with J, instead of my brother and sister's?   
SPOILERS: LOTR books and film + The Hobbit, plus Buffy thru the ep when Tara and Willow have split up, plus HP up to about midway through GOF :)   
NOTES: Yet another obscene fic that can - this time - be blamed entirely on the rather spiffy Gileswench on the YGTS? list. Unfortunately for me, this is a gloveslap, a challenge one writer personally issues to another, which means I didn't pick it. It was given to me. Sense my joy :P The challenge is basically a LoTR/HP/Buffy crossover with a bunch of essential `things' to satisfy the Wench's odd taste. The title comes from an Ethan Rayne line in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I love the guy :D And personally, I LOVE writing the way the members of the fellowship speak - oh so formal compared to Buffy & Co. And Wench, I hope you like your challenge ;) 

"What place is this?" 

Boromir's question was a valid one, as was the wary fear in his voice. 

Gandalf's eyes scanned around the...place, a furrow of concern lining his brow, as he was forced to accept that this was somewhere that he had never known, somewhere beyond the lands of Middle Earth and the West. 

It was near as dark as the mines of Moria and, by the dull light of the wizard's staff, row upon row of planed panels of wood stretched out before them, descending like a staircase, with a narrow aisle and flight of steps running between the rows. 

At the base of the stairway, a large, wooden desk stood, a small light glowing dimly upon it, but there was no one present, as far as the grey-clothed wizard could see. 

On one side of him, Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, had an arrow nocked in his bow, while on the other, Gimli, son of Gloin, was wielding his axe and looking around with marked suspicion. 

"Gandalf?" Aragorn prompted the wizard, shielding the Hobbits with his body, his sword drawn. "How have we come to be here?" 

"I am not certain," the wizard carefully replied, shifting the weight of his staff in his grip, the wood rough against his palm. He could sense that there was a danger present, his eyes darting around once more. 

Only moments before, they had been deep in the underbelly of the mines of Moria and as suddenly as the wind might change, they had found themselves standing on flat, smooth ground, which was covered in a layer of some kind of fabric that was far too coarse to be considered as cloth. 

"Evil approaches," Legolas breathed, his eyes meeting Gandalf's by the light of the glowing crystal at the top of the wizard's staff. 

Gandalf motioned for the elf to be silent, his own aged ears picking up the sound of nearing footsteps, his fingers tightening around his staff. Moving to the fore, placing himself as a barrier at the top of the staircase, he drew a calming breath. 

Something squealed, the sound of a neglected door being pulled open. 

A rectangle of light appeared at the base of the...room? 

"Oh good! You made it! I thought I'd lost you in transit! Can you imagine just how embarrassing that would have been?" a female voice exclaimed. "I mean, imagine if the fellowship of the ring got misplaced on the way to Hogwarts, via Stirling!" 

There was a click, then crackling from the ceiling not so far above them, unlike any sound they had ever heard before, which made all of the fellowship raise their arms to shield their heads defensively. 

Light flooded the room. 

Broad strips across the ceiling had illuminated, revealing the damp- stained, off-white walls of the room, the panels of wood clearly rows of desks with...chairs that folded up to save space. How very ingenious! 

However, the brilliant light had a rather unfortunate effect on the nine, who had - for several days - been ensconced in the dark of Moria. 

"It's too bright!" Pippin cried out, clamping his hands over his eyes. 

"Oh, quit complaining, you pathetic little wimp," snapped the...woman? 

Yes. 

At the bottom of the room, hands on her hips, wearing the most...unusual variety of clothing that they had ever seen, a brown- haired, blue-eyed female was standing, an amused expression on her face. 

She looked normal. However, the copper-coloured horns poking through her wavy hair and the white ring of light humming softly atop them suggested, though, that she was not of the race of man. 

"Who are you?" Gandalf asked, staff held in both hands, ready to strike if it became necessary. "Where is this place?" 

The...thing was looking down at a notebook and raised her eyes to him. "Me? I'm Fyre and this is a bastardised version of Pathfoot Lecture Theatre in Stirling. This is just a temporary spot so I can collect everyone together." 

"Everyone?" Boromir asked suspiciously. 

"Well, I have you lot already and..." She glanced at the door, as it was hesitantly opened by a slight red-haired girl. "Great! Right on time! Looks like the Buffy crew have made it as well." 

"Uh...where are we?" 

"Come in, sit down and shut up," the brown-haired woman said cheerfully, pointing to the rows of cushioned and folded seats. "You lot, too. Get your bums down here, where I can see you. All will be explained soon." 

Aragorn moved alongside Gandalf, giving him a questioning look. "Is she a threat?" 

"I sense a great evil in her," Legolas whispered, his expression one of concern. 

"Don't think I can't hear you whispering up there, Legless," the girl called, her eyes on her notebook, which she was writing in. "And I won't do you any harm if you do what you're told." She raised her eyes to them, a dangerous glint in them. "Now, get your middle-earth butts down here and in these seats." 

Keeping Frodo - and the ring - safely at the back of the group, the Fellowship made their way down the stairs, as a few more people entered through the door at the front, each of them looking as bewildered as the fellowship were. 

A small blonde girl with an axe to rival Gimli's and an indecently short skirt was first to enter after the red-haired girl. She was accompanied by a dark-haired teenage girl, a black-haired boy, a bleach blond man, two sandy-blonde young women and an older man, who looked like he might be intelligent. 

There garb was strange, the young women proudly exhibiting more naked flesh in public than the women of Gondor even showed in the bed chamber. Their form-fitting costumes left little to the imagination of the two men and four hobbits present. 

Even the elf, the dwarf and the wizard could not withhold a suitably drawn-out stare. 

"Some time today would be nice, boys," Fyre stated authoritatively. 

Shaking themselves out of the staring fit they were indulging in, the Fellowship managed to acquire seats in the row behind the group of strange individuals. Legolas was forcibly slapped back in his seat by Gimli, who was leaning forward to peer at the well-armed blonde girl. 

"Okay. We're here. now what's the what?" 

"Patience, Slayer," Fyre said in a patronising tone. "All will be revealed soon. And Gimli, the axe belongs to her. You lay your hands on it, you'll probably end up with broken arms, okay?" 

The dwarf sat back hastily. 

"Okay...just a few more people and we're ready to go...and they'll be waiting..." 

"So what the hell is goin' on here?" 

Fyre turned to the blonde man, in the second group. "Spike, Spike, Spike...you really do have to learn what `patience' means, don't you? If it helps, your chip isn't active as long as you're in my company, but kill anyone without my permission..." She left the words hanging and the blond man stared at her. 

"What are you on about?" 

"Look, mate, I have control here. I managed to get you from Sunnydale to Stirling without any mode of transportation, except my skills with a keyboard, although that short cut to Beijing was a bit of a typo..." 

"A keyboard?" Boromir demanded. "What is this new devilry?" 

"Ask a lot of questions, don't you, Bori? I can call you Bori, can't I?" She gave him a coy smirk. "Good boy," she finished before he got a chance to answer. "A keyboard is what I use to control this world. The Wench demanded it, so I had to comply." 

"Control this world?" the older man in the second group spluttered. "That's absurd." 

"Absurd it may be, Ripper, old pal, but true. I'm in control, at least for the current period of time," she answered amiably, beaming at him. "And yes, I know you went by the name of Ripper. I know more about you than you could imagine. All of you." 

"Permit me to sound sceptical," the small blonde said. 

"Permission granted, Buffy Anne Summers, daughter of Hank and Joyce Summers, the Slayer, twice dead, once drowned and once jumped through a glowy portal thingie to save your sister, Dawn Summers, aka the Key for the Beast known as Glorificus. You also have a former love- interest of Angel aka Angelus, of the Scourge of Europe, currently residing in LA and running a detective agency with a former not- really-a-friend of yours, Cordelia Chase, and former Watcher, Wesley Wyndham Pryce." 

A rather stunned silence greeted this proclamation. 

"Now, Buffy, Slayer..." The thing smiled. "Do you need me to elaborate further or do I have your complete attention?" 

Buffy made an odd squeak. 

"What manner of creature are you?" Aragorn asked, shifting uncomfortably in the seat next to Frodo. He was unfamiliar with the luxury of utilising padded furniture, his Ranger lifestyle one of hardship and using rocks as pillows. And, he was a very butch and manly-man as well. 

"Me?" Fyre grinned at him. "I'm not sure anyone can answer that question. Heck, even I don't know what I am. Most people would say that I'm a human, or as close to a human as you can get." 

Legolas was still watching the creature with deep suspicion, one hand on his small dagger, lest the need to defend himself became necessary. "You have forced us from our quest," he said quietly. "We must know why." 

"Don't worry, Goldilocks. You'll be back on your quest before you know it. Just count this as a pleasant breather and a chance for Frodo there to take the weight of the ring of his shoulders for a little while." 

Worried looks flashed between them. 

"Oh, come on. I know your names, I hauled you out of Moria for this little task and you think I wouldn't know about the little squirt carrying the one ring," She pointed at the dark-haired hobbit. "I mean, look at the pout on the guy. I gotta be the one to say that isn't normal for your average hobbit. Unless he's not getting enough pervy hobbit sex from Sam." 

Samwise Gamgee went a hideous shade of purple, spluttering indignantly. Merry and Pippin both gaped at Sam and Frodo, utterly scandalised by this revelation. 

"Frodo...?" Merry asked, edging a little way away from his cousin and Sam. 

Enormous blue eyes stared at Merry, looking traumtised by the very idea. "It's not true," Frodo said, in the whisper which was becoming so familiar. "He's my gardener and my friend. Nothing more." 

"You tell him, Master Frodo." 

"Master Frodo...like that isn't an implication of manly bondage- style-dominatrix hobbit love..." Fyre smirked as Pippin and Merry practically climbed over each other to avoid being the one sitting next to Sam. 

"What cause have you to inflict such torment on the halflings?" Legolas demanded, his voice rising a little. 

Blue eyes levelled in his direction. "Would you prefer if I targeted you, Legless?" 

Wisely, as most of the fellowship later would agree, he chose not to reply, falling silent and studying his dagger. 

The door opened again, allowing several figures to enter. 

"Whoo!" Fyre squeaked gleefully. 

"What on earth is going on here?" the lead figure said. 

"No clue, mate, but can you move your arse? I can't see a thing." 

The man Fyre had identified as Ripper stood up. "Ethan." 

The second man who had just entered, with silvering dark brown curly hair and wearing a red shirt and black trousers, looked genuinely surprised. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed in astonishment. "Ripper!" 

"You lot," Fyre motioned the gathering group in. "Now. Sit." 

The blond man who had lead the group arched a brow at her. "What right have you to order us around?" 

The Fellowship winced as the ice-blue eyes turned on the man, who was clad in robes and bore a short, black staff, topped by a silver snake head. The ring of light over the girl's head glowed. "What did you say, Lucius?" 

"I wish to know what right you have to order us around and where we are." 

Fyre sniffed. "That's just rude. You didn't even say please. Now, I'll just have to humiliate you." 

"WHOOHOO!" a voice yelled from the top of the room, several eyes turning that way. A plump little woman was standing there, beaming, with a bucket of white fragments in her hand and broad grin on her face. 

Fyre's expression darkened. "Wenchie, I thought I banned you until this was done. I told you that you can`t interfere!" 

"Satan," the woman, apparently Wenchie, replied, smirking. "This is my slap, so I can do what I like. So...humiliation of Lucius...are you going to kill him already? I brought popcorn for it!" 

"Wenchie," Fyre repeated. "You can't tell me what to do." 

"Au contraire, my dear, sweet Satan," Wenchie retorted amiably, waving a book in the air. "It's the Stoners Guide to Gloveslaps and according to rule twenty-four point three five seven to the nearest decimal place in clause forty-one and a bit, I'm allowed to butt in wherever I like to make sure everything happens." 

Fyre looked like she was in the kind of pain people only experience when they have had too much curry. "Meaning?" 

"Meaning," Wenchie replied a little too eagerly, grinning like a lunatic. "You have to do him in. Now. In a painful and pointless way." 

"But he just got here!" 

Wenchie's grin turned distinctly evil. "I know," she answered. "That's what makes it so much fun." 

"So...how?" 

"Humiliatingly." 

Fyre looked Lucius up and down. He arched a eyebrow imperiously. "I'm really sorry about this," she said, shrugging helplessly. "But you and Junior were penned for the chop and now, mein Fuhrer has given the order." 

"What are you blathering about?" 

"OMIGOD!" 

It was one of the girls in the second group who had shrieked it. 

Lucius looked down at his suddenly very naked self, while Fyre pointedly didn't, her eyes pressed tightly shut and her fingers stuck in her ears. 

"He really has a very small penis," another of the girls said. "You can hardly see it." 

It was like some kind of hideous accident that simply must be stared at. 

Lucius Malfoy, once proud patriarch of the Malfoy family shielded his one-time pride and joy with his hands, whimpered loudly but only once, went a peculiar shade of pink and keeled over. A feeble croak sounded from his throat and - approproately enough, since he was meant to - he died. 

One of Fyre's eyes opened. "Is he...?" she started to ask, then seemed to notice the stunned faces staring at her. "I'll take that as a yes, then," she finished, lowering her hands and deliberately avoiding looking at the body at her feet. "Right..." 

"You...you killed him..." the red-haired girl whispered. 

"To quote one of your absent friends, what are you? The narrator?" Fyre pulled a face at her, then winked at the shy-looking sandy- haired woman sitting next to the red head. "And hey, you would have been little Miss Psycho-Torturer-Cum-Murderer, so don't get all prissy on me." 

"I-I wouldn't!" 

"Oh no!" Fyre hurried over to the row of seats, ignoring the fact that everyone seemed to recoil, reaching over and grasping the sandy- haired girl's hand. "Not you, beautiful!" she exclaimed, then nodded pointedly at Willow. "Her." 

"Hey!" 

"Back off, Red," The ring on the girl's horns glowed white again. "You aren't an item anymore. Remember? All that nice dark magic that you used to manipulate her mind? Kinda broke you up, didn't it?" 

The red-haired girl fell silent and Fyre beamed at the now-blushing woman, whose hand she was still holding. "Don't worry," the...thing crooned, raising a hand to stroke the girl's long hair. "If you ever need someone to hug, just call." 

"Ahem?" Wenchie coughed. 

"Oh!" Fyre bound back over to the podium, grabbing her notebook and looking over the small knot of figures still nervously lurking in the vicinity of the door. "Right, if I call your name, say if you're present." 

Apparently, the list of people present included the Fellowship, Rupert Giles, Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris, Dawn Summers, Tara Maclay, Anya Emerson, Spike, Ethan Rayne and a reptilian-looking man by the name of Grima Wormtongue, who struck Gandalf as oddly familiar. 

"Right! We're all here! And Lucius is dead..." Fyre heaved a sigh. "Looks like we're ready to go to Hogwarts." 

"Hogwarts? As in Harry Potter Hogwarts?" 

Fyre nodded to Dawn Summers, the dark-haired teen. "Yes," she replied, glowering at Wenchie. "Like I don't bloody go there enough with you lot." 

"What is this Hogwarts?" 

"Always with the questions, huh, Boromir?" Snapping her book shut, Fyre looked around at the little group. "And, to answer your question, Hogwarts is..." Her hands clapped together and a blast of light erupted from her halo, blinding them briefly. "Here." 

*** 

TBC. 


End file.
